In early November, I received my Enlightenment kit from Sencha Naturals. This lovely collection of mints and instant sencha effervescent drink mixes took me back to my first experiments with breath mints. I was a rookie teacher trying to teach descriptive writing to fourth graders.

“I want each of you to close your eyes and listen.” I sang a few lines of a radio tune popular with the pre-teen set, followed by the cracking of the knuckles on my left and right hands. “Open your eyes,” I directed, “and write two or three sentences about what you just heard. Use similes and metaphors.”

“Then came a sound,” Travis was reading his aloud, “like a weasel and an alleycat locked up and fighting in an oil drum.” (Note to self: never sing to children; they don’t appreciate it.) Travis went on to write, “Then she cracked all of her knuckles, which is kind of cool.” The description of my singing was, er, more descriptive. No?

Again, I asked students to close their eyes and observe. I peeled an orange and placed sections on every other desk, along with a piece of the peel. Of course, the students wrote, “It smells like an orange.” I collected their papers and decided to make a serious rookie mistake: make a sensory spectacle of myself the very next day.

I came to class dressed like a spinster straight out of “Arsenic and Old Lace.” I doused myself thoroughly with Emeraude Perfume. The earrings dangling from my earlobes jingled and clinked, as did the matching bracelet. I wore my alder-soled Bastad clogs as well as eye shadow, mascara, and rouge. The ribbing I received in the staff room that morning should have been a warning. I ignored it and gulped down five cups of that awful workplace coffee so common in the 80’s. (Back in those days we thought a Barista was a poorly paid lawyer practicing in the UK.) I entered my classroom with a flourish of pounding wood, wind of Emeraude, and pinch of too-tightly buttoned collar.

“Get out your writing journals,” Jittery from the coffee binge, my voice was shaking. “Observe me using your senses: sight, sound, smell. Write at least two sentences for each sense. Close your eyes if that helps.” The kids got out their journals. I thought I might have overdone the perfume, because kids were turning away from me as I leaned over their desks to encourage them, some pinching their nostrils.

“She smells like coffee spilled on one of those tutti-fruity car air-freshener trees,” Zeke wrote. His paper was the clear winner of the adjective award. HIs peers, all nineteen of them, mentioned the coffee breath. Although I was to drink coffee for another twenty years, it was while reading those journals that I began to look for the perfect breath mint.

The lion’s share of breath mints out there are, er, minty. The only odor worse than bad breath is bad breath with a mint finish. The way to stay ahead of this malady is to munch breath mints all day long, or at least as long as you intend to speak to people. Good for the bottom line of such breath mint giants as Altoids and Tic Tac. Bad for your teeth and tummy, however.

I was delighted when I first discovered Sen Cha Naturals in 2008 and reviewed them for this blog. Finally a breath mint that works on the origin of bad breath instead of simply masking it! Since that review, new products have been created by the people at Sen Cha Naturals.

Now available in five flavors – and two handy container options – you can slip a tin or tube into your pocket, purse, or briefcase. I keep one in the glove box, too. While the mints are very tasty – neither minty nor medicinal – it takes just a few to freshen your breath. Unlike other breath mints on the market, they are good enough to chomp on when you need a little treat in the sleepy afternoon.

It is the green tea in the “mints” that does the dirty work of freshening dragon breath. Just three of the mints equals one cup of green tea antioxidants. Finally, a mint that works and is good for you!